Kryptonite
by nightblazer217
Summary: Oneshot about Ratchet and Arcee, from TFA episode 7, "Thrill of the Hunt." set to 3 Doors Down.


Kryptonite

A Ratchet/Arcee drabble by nightblazer217

**Notes: OK, I watched this really wonderful Ratchet video on Youtube, called Ratchet Be Her Superhero, and the idea for this just couldn't wait. I love Ratchet, and I love this pairing. ^^ Comments appreciated. This song is called Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down. I don't own Transformers, Transformers Animated, OR this song. Just the writing.**

_Well I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind, I left my body lying somewhere in the sands of time…_

"Arcee! Noooooooooo!" The all-too-familiar howl pounded through his processor, panging his spark. Ratchet's optics opened and as he came online, he became aware of the wetness streaking the sides of his face. Touching his weathered cheeks gingerly, he groaned softly to himself. Great. More nightmares. His processor ached, and his spark pulsed painfully against its casing. Misery, fueled by the memories Ratchet knew would haunt the rest of his days, filled him.

_But I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon. I feel there's nothing I can do._

Knowing he would never be able to go back into recharge after such dreams, the Autobot medic left his berth. He had only preceded everyone else by about thirty Earth minutes anyway. As he stretched his creaking joints and prepared to leave, memories bombarded him. The tragic encounter with Lockdown all those cycles ago, coupled with the recent brush with the Decepticon who had changed his life forever…Primus forbid he would ever meet that Pit-sparked bounty hunter a third time. He'd never recharge again…not that it mattered. These days the nightmares about _her_ made whatever recharge he did manage to get a living Pit.

_I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon, after all I knew it had to be something to do with you. _

For the millionth time, Ratchet wondered if Arcee might have forgiven him for the mistake he'd made, if she had somehow regained her memory. Primus knew the guilt that stabbed his spark every time his optics opened in the mornings was torture enough; if the femme whose life he'd helped destroy had forgiven him for such a sin, he would never be able to take it.

_I really don't mind what happens now and then, as long as you'll be my friend at the end…_

Scrubbing down the medbay equipment did not, as he had hoped, help to clear his clouded processor. Once again Ratchet grimly reflected that if his much younger teammates—even Optimus, the most levelheaded of them all—somehow could know what went through his head constantly, they'd probably go mad. A crazy medic. Go figure.

_And if I go crazy will you still call me Superman? If I'm alive and well will you be there holding my hand? I'll keep you by my side with my superhuman might, Kryptonite._

How had she slipped through his servos that horrible day? Ratchet cursed softly as he watched the pale dawn of winter streak through the windows and tint the sky above Detroit shades of yellow. She, unlike him, would never get to keep the memory of a solitary sunrise a treasured secret deep in her spark; it should be himself without the ability to remember, not her. Himself, whom everyone turned to when their arm was severed, their legs wouldn't function or there were bullets embedded in their chestplating, who even at the peak of his own health couldn't rescue that of a brave and beautiful soldier. Some Autobot. 'To uphold the lives of my patients above my own', indeed. Some medic!

_You call me strong, you call me weak, but still your secrets I will keep._

They had no idea, Ratchet thought as he spotted Prowl leave his room. No idea how hard it was to live with himself, how badly he sometimes wished his EMP blaster would work on him. Everyone looked at him as a constant. Ratchet, the medic, always there when they needed, always willing and able to fix whatever damage occurred. Always there to get things moving with a snarky comment or break up an argument with his no-nonsense attitude. Not even Optimus, the only one he had told of the day he'd lost her, really knew the turmoil he hid in the darkest corners of his spark—the storm of regret and grief he had practiced painting over with sarscasm and gruffness until only he knew the difference.

_You took for granted all the times I never let you down._

He was a medic. It was his duty, his job, his life's mission, to aid his comrades. To protect all life, for it was precious, and do his best to heal the wounds of others, no matter the cost to him.

_You stumbled in and bumped your head, if not for me then you'd be dead._

Little did anyone know that he couldn't heal the gaping wound inside of himself.

_I picked you up, put you back on solid ground._

What would they think of him if he knew? Bumblebee would never be able to look him in the optics and give him that infuriating challenge of, "Too old to make it?" that let Ratchet know that, as annoying as Bumblebee thought he was, they were still comrades, comrades who fought for each other. Bulkhead would never turn to him for advice when he felt nobody else could be bothered to listen to his problems. Never would Ratchet hear Prowl quietly whisper, "Thank you," when he patched up his latest battle injury, and never would he feel his spark grow soft when Sari patted his dashboard, or hugged his ankle goodbye when she left. Optimus would most likely blame himself for not knowing of the agony of Ratchet's memory.

_If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman? If I'm alive and well will you be there, holding my hand? I'll keep you by my side with my superhuman might. Kyrptonite._

Oh, if only he had gotten toher sooner! If only he had chosen to take the aboveground route! If only he had avoided Lockdown's trap by going another way, or at the very least, put up a better fight! It was his fault she had lost her memory. After all her bravery, all her endurance and her loyalty-everything that had made his spark skip its pulse when those paralyzing sky-colored optics met his-, Ratchet had failed to do what had mattered most to him. He had failed to save his patient. Yes, the accident had kept Omega's codes out of Decepticon servos—but a brave and beautiful life had been as good as lost. And it was something Ratchet could never forgive himself for…

_If I go crazy will you still call me Superman? If I'm alive and well, will you be there holding my hand? I'll keep you by my side with my superhuman might, Kryptonite._

For she had not been lost in the usual way, because of a wound too great to heal, or too many Decepticons Ratchet had to fight to escape, or because of a journey too long for the makeshift patch job of a desperate field medic to endure. She had been lost simply because of his weakness, a mistake that had cost her her memory and he, his spark. Ratchet had been used by that time to the pain that came when there was one he couldn't save—as used as one could get to the guilt of losing a life. But he knew that he had tried his best, and sometimes no matter how hard you tried, the injuries were just too damaging for even your skilled servos to heal. Ironic, that everyone figured that was how you lost your innocence as a war medic—by having to fight through Pit and back, only to watch the soldier you dragged out of the battle go offline in your arms. In a way, it was—nothing compared to losing a life you tried so hard to save. But it wasn't how Ratchet had become aware of the brutality of the universe.

_If I go crazy, wil you still call me Superman? If I'm alive and well, will you be there holding my hand? I'll keep you by my side with my superhuman might, Kryptonite._

It was the loss of someone so much dearer to him than any other soldier he'd tried to save that had awakened Ratchet to the true meaning of the Earth word, "hell".

The skies above the city were now a pale, bright, perfect turquoise blue, and his spark throbbed painfully as he remembered a beautiful pair of optics, that exact same shade, gazing up at him with first pain, then desperation, and finally, complete and total unfamiliarity. Thinking of them, tears stung his own.

"Arcee," Ratchet whispered. "I'm sorry."

_Kryptonite._

**_Author's Notes: Ahh, so sad! TT TT I promise not all my stuff will be this depressing._**


End file.
